


Matchmakers

by firingmaincannon (Shsldork)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shsldork/pseuds/firingmaincannon
Summary: Tucker gets the brilliant idea to get Simmons and Grif together. Church, Donut & Caboose get involved. Things don't go quite according to plan.





	Matchmakers

   Church and Tucker stood on the same cliff they did everyday, Church spying on the other team - the Reds. Tucker had already asked what they were doing twice - and he was quickly running out of topics. So far, not a lot had happened. Well, not since after they had all made their way to Valhalla, anyways. It was a long story. He decided to strike up a conversation.

   “Y'know-”

   Before even managing to get out a sentence, his companion, Church, groaned.

   “ _What_ , Tucker?”

   “I’m kinda surprised that Grif and Simmons aren’t married or something,” that being the first topic out of his mouth wasn’t much of a surprise, but it seemed to do it’s job.

   “They’re not?” Church looked away from the scope of the rifle, looking at Tucker.

   “Nope. I was surprised too, when I found out. Last time we talked, they kept bickering, and they pretty much argued like an old married couple.”

   “I was there Tucker, you don’t have to remind me.”

   “To be honest, I almost told them to get a room to calm down-”

   “Tucker, don’t-”

   “-bow chicka bow wow.”

   Church groaned, wondering again if there had ever been a conversation between the two of them that hadn’t had that stupid phrase in it. He tried to bring the subject back around, “well, how long have they been together? Must be a few years now, don’t you think?”

   “Well, that’s the thing, Church. They’re not together.”

   “… At all?”

   Tucker shook his head, “I was pretty shocked when I found out.”

   Huh. That was strange. Church could’ve sworn they were, but maybe he’d been adding some extra subtext by accident.

   “Y'know,” Tucker continued, “it’s a shame. They’d make a good couple.”

   “Oh _no_ ,” Church shook his head.

   “Oh no what?”

   “Oh, no no no.”

   “Church, **what**?”

   “Look,” Church turned to face Tucker head on, “I don’t care what you do in other people’s lives, but if you wanna meddle in someone else’s business by playing ‘Matchmaker’, keep me out of it. I want no part in this. Why don’t you ask Donut to help you? He’s pretty keen about this sort of thing.”

   “But Church-”

   “Or Caboose. I could take a break from him for a bit.”

   “Church, they’re idiots! They’ll give everything away in a heart beat. They don’t know the meaning of the word 'subtle’!”

   Church raised an eyebrow, “do you?”

   “Bow chicka bow wow.”

   “What does that even mean in this context?”

   “I don’t know. Just thought it was a good place to say it.”

 

…

 

   “ _Chuuurch_ ,” Tucker whined, “ _Chuuuuuuurch_.”

   “What did I tell you, Tucker? I’m not doing it.”

   “Church please?”

   “Are you going to stop?”

   “Are you gonna help me?”

   “No.”

   “Then no.”

   Church went to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance, but realized his helmet was still on. He groaned instead.

   “Listen, if I agree to this, you owe me.”

   “What do you want?”

   “You to **never** ask me for a favour ever again.”

   “I don’t know if I can manage that.”

   Church glared in his direction, “then you’re shit outta luck.”

   “ _Chuuuuuuurch_.”

   “Fine, but you still owe me.”

   Tucker’s eyes lit up, and he smiled wide, “awesome!”

   “What’s the plan?”

   “What plan?”

   “Y'know, to get Simmons and Grif together. The whole reason we’re doing this?”

   “Oh… right. I don’t have one yet. I was hoping you could help with that.”

   “Of _fucking_ course. There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”

 

…

 

   There Church was, sitting in a circle, on the floor of Blue base, with an enthusiastic aqua dressed soldier, and an extremely overly ecstatic pink dressed soldier. If Donut could even be called a soldier. He could see Donut bouncing with excitement, and sighed into his hands.

   “I can’t believe you actually got me to buy into this bullshit, Tucker.”

   “You’re ruining the moment, grumpy pants!” Donut seemed to like calling him that, no matter how many times Church has told him not to. He didn’t bother this time, knowing he wouldn’t listen to him anyways.

   Church rested his elbow on his thigh, and his hand on his chin. He was about to speak up when Tucker said, “are you done whining or can I explain the plan now?”

   Church rolled his eyes, “yes, you can explain the plan now.”

   “Okay,” Donut perked up, listening to Tucker intently, “the plan is to leave Grif a note, supposedly from Simmons, saying to meet up by the waterfall. Meanwhile, someone will find Simmons and tell him that we had to deliver a message from Grif to him, saying to meet by the waterfall.”

   Church furrowed his brows, “then what?”

   “What do you mean?” Donut piped up, “it’s perfect!”

   “Perfect? What do you expect them to do, run into each other’s arms once they see each other and profess their love?”

   Church could see Donut sighing happily at the thought.

   “Listen, the most they’re gonna do is meet up, and ask each other why they wanted to see the other. Y'know what’s going to come from that? An incredibly awkward situation.”

   Tucker shrugged, “Donut was the one who came up with it. I actually didn’t see the plan until now.”

   “Okay, well,” Donut interjected, “maybe it’s not perfect, but I don’t see you coming up with anything, Church.”

   Church sighed, “no wonder you need my help. Look, we need to give them something to talk about. Maybe we can plant the idea in their heads that someone around base likes them.”

   Tucker perked up, “that’s a good idea, Church. Maybe we should be a bit vague about it, too? Add some suspense.”

   “Maybe,” Church said, “that would give them an opportunity to let them come to the conclusion on their own.”

   “Because it’s more authentic that way!” Donut smiled under his helmet, and Church could tell his eyes were sparkling with anticipation from the sound of his voice alone.

   “It’s settled then,” Tucker announced, “Donut, I want you to talk to Simmons, and I can go talk to Grif. We’ll plant the idea that someone likes them in their head, and we’ll go from there!”

   Church spoke up, “What about me?”

   Tucker stared for a moment.

   “Huh. Hadn’t thought about that.”

   “You bitched about this for an _entire hour_ , and you have no idea what you want me to do?”

   “Give a guy a break, I’m making this up as I go along.”

 

…

 

   Donut was bobbing up and down on his way back to Red base, completely ready to set the plan in motion. He couldn’t wait to finally see Grif and Simmons get together! Donut had always thought that they’d had great chemistry, even if they argued and insulted each other near constantly. Everyone knew it was all in good fun, and at the end of the day, they really cared about each other.

   Upon entering Red base, Donut hadn’t spotted Simmons anywhere, and he definitely wasn’t outside training, since Donut had just come from there and would’ve seen him if he had been.

   He tapped his chin, “now, if I were a Simmons, where would I be?”

   Instead of searching, Donut called out for Simmons, caution be damned. In all fairness, should Grif be in the base, chances were he was fast asleep and wouldn’t wake up even for an earthquake, so Donut was in the clear.

   Simmons peaked his head out of one of the adjacent rooms, “oh, hey Donut. What do you want?”

   Donut couldn’t just come out and say it, could he? That wouldn’t sound natural.

   “Um, Donut?”

   How should he start the conversation? Should he say hi? No, wait, he’d already done that.

   “Donut? Anybody in there?”

   What do people usually start conversations with? Maybe “how’s the weather”? No, the weather never changes here.

   “Okay, well, I’m going to go back to cleaning.”

   “How… _are_ you?” Donut sounded more confused than anything else, his sentence sounding weirdly disjointed. Simmons furrowed his brows.

   “Um… fine? Listen, I gotta get back to work, if I don’t finish this, Sarge is gonna-”

   “I think someone in base likes you,” Donut had panicked. He wanted to be sure his portion of the plan was done, but if Simmons kept trying to get back to work, he wouldn’t have been able to.

   “Someone on base likes me? What are you talking about?”

   “I mean just that! Someone on base likes you!”

   Simmons frowned. Surely this was a joke, right?

   “Do you know who?”

   He fully expected Donut to say himself, and hug him completely platonically or something, but instead Donut said, “I think it’s someone in Red base!”

   Knowing Donut, should it have been what the maroon soldier was expecting, Donut would’ve come right out and said it by now.

   “Someone in Red base?”

   Why had Donut been specific? Simmons didn’t think anybody liked him, and if anything, someone from Blue team would be the least expected.

   “Yep! Someone in Red base!”

   Well… Sarge was out of the question, and he wasn’t sure if Lopez even had feelings, so that left Donut and Grif… and it definitely wasn’t Grif. Which left Donut. Simmons felt heat reach his face. He’d… never really been confronted with this before. What was he supposed to say?

   “Uh… D-Donut?”

   Donut’s smile widened.

   “Have you figured it out yet?”

   “Well, uh… How do I say this… L-Look, you’re- you’re nice and all, but I’m just not-”

   “What? No, not me, silly!”

   Simmons heaved out a sigh. He hadn’t felt that relieved since the last time Grif’s room had been clean, which was pretty much right before Grif had set foot into that room for the first time.

   “Wait. If you didn’t mean you, then who are we talking about,” Simmons didn’t give Donut much time to respond before adding, “it’s not Lopez, is it?”

   “What? No, not Lopez. I’m pretty sure the only feelings he experiences are saltiness and sass.”

   “Sass isn’t an emotion, Donut.”

   “For Lopez, it might as well be. Anyway, I’m getting off track! It’s not me, and it’s not Lopez.”

   “Uhm… it’s not Sarge, is it? He’s more of like… someone I look up to, and he’s kinda old.”

   “Nope!”

   “Okay, good. Uhm.. don’t tell him I said that.”

   “Secret’s safe with me!”

   “Good,” Simmons went back through his brain, trying to figure out if there were any Red soldiers besides them that weren’t Grif, “is it… me? Because, if it was, I’m pretty sure I’d kn-”

   Donut had gotten a little too antsy at this point, and he blurted out, “it’s Grif!”

   “Grif? Are you sure?”

   “Absofruitly!”

   Simmons really wished Donut would stop saying that, but instead said, “how do you know?”

   “I… Uh… I heard him talking about it. To himself.”

   “You heard him? When?”

   “He was sleep talking.”

   “I don’t know, Donut, that doesn’t sound like him.”

   “Trust me, Simmons! I heard him with my own two ears.”

   “Whatever you say. I have to get cleaning or else Sarge will kill me.”

   “Alright. Bye bye Simmons!”

   While Donut bounded off to do God knows what, Simmons tried to get back to cleaning, but his mind kept wandering. Donut couldn’t possibly have heard Grif say that. He was just misinterpreting it, like he did with everything… Right?

   “Oh, and Simmons,” Donut popped his head back into the base, “I ran into him near the waterfall, I think he wants to talk to you!”

   Simmons’ back stiffened, “he _what!?_ Right now!?”

   Donut nodded enthusiastically.

   This was really sudden. Way too sudden. What was he supposed to tell Sarge? God, what was he even supposed to say to _Grif?_ It’s not like he’d rehearsed this or anything, he hadn’t even considered it to be a possibility!

   “Donut, what am I supposed to say?”

   “Just tell him how you feel!”

   “Wha-”

   Before he could ask Donut to elaborate, he’d run off. Great. That was a lot of help. What was he supposed to do…? He could just… not go. On the other hand, things would be awkward if he stood Grif up…

   “Shit.”

 

…

 

   Meanwhile, Tucker and Church had managed to find Grif, who was lying down under a big tree trying to sleep, as usual.

   “Hey, Grif,” Tucker said, taking the spot next to him under the shade. He received no response, so he tried again, “Grif?”

   Church nudged Grif’s torso with his foot, before hearing a low mumble and watching Grif turn over to face away from him.

   “Grif, wake up,” Church said.

   In response, Grif mumbled, “go away, Simmons, I’m trying to sleep,” before snoring away again.

   Instead of nudging Grif with his foot, Church decided it was a better idea to kick Grif to get his attention. He heard Grif mumble a pained “ow” before sitting up.

   “Dude, don’t kick him,” Tucker scolded Church, and Church shrugged.

   “If you had a better idea, you didn’t say anything. Besides, that’s probably one of the only ways we could’ve gotten him up.”

   Tucker considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement, “that’s a fair point.”

   Grif groaned, “what the hell? I was having a nice dream. Why’d you have to wake me up?”

   “We heard something int-” Tucker started before getting cut off by Grif, “Gossip. You woke me up for gossip.”

   “That’s a good summary, yeah,” Church nodded in Tucker’s direction, “his idea.”

   Grif scowled in Tucker’s direction and yawned while Tucker defended himself, “I mean, the gossip involves you! I figured you’d want to know.”

   “I still don’t think it was worth waking me up, but you’ve got me interested. What’s up?”

   “Well,” Tucker started, “we heard that someone around might like you.”

   “Like me? What, like friends? Because I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

   “No, like more than friends,” Church started, and before he could say anything else, Tucker butted in with a quick, “bow chicka bow wow.”

   “Oh, so you mean my sister then? Because I’m still pretty sure you have the wrong Grif.”

   Church scoffed, “you’re telling me.”

   Tucker elbowed him and turned back to Grif, “no, they mentioned you by your first name. It was about you, I’m sure of it.”

   “Any idea who they thought liked me? Because I’d have no goddamn clue.”

   Tucker shook his head, “nope, didn’t get a chance to listen to the rest. Just that someone likes you. Bow chi-”

   “Tucker, I swear to God, if you don’t stop that-” Church threatened, to which Tucker put his hands up in defense, “okay, okay, I’m done!”

   “I don’t really believe you,” Grif responded, “about someone liking me, or that you’re gonna stop doing that.”

   Tucker shrugged, “you’re probably right about the second thing, but I can guarantee you that there’s someone who likes you.”

   “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re gonna let me get back to sleep now, right?”

   Tucker patted him on the shoulder, “yeah, we’ll let you get back to sleep, dude.”

   Grif was already lying down on his side, so to show he understood, he gave Tucker and Church a thumbs up.

 

…

 

   Tucker, Church and Donut met up back at Blue base to discuss their next point of action. Tucker was the first to speak with, “success on our front, Donut. We’ve got the idea in his head.”

   “What about you, Donut,” Church mentioned, “how did things go on your end?”

   “Marvellously! At least, **I** think so.”

   Church raised an eyebrow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

   “ _Weeeeeell_ … I may or may not have told him it was Grif who liked him.”

   “Aw man,” Tucker frowned, “they were supposed to figure it out on their own, Donut.”

   “I know. I got excited. Sorry.”

   “Wait…” Church spoke up, “that might actually be a good thing. They’d definitely be able to get a conversation about it out of that.”

   Donut cheered for himself, “yay! My fuck up turned out to be a good thing!”

 

…

 

   Simmons made his way to the waterfall to find… nothing? Didn’t Donut say Grif was supposed to be here? Simmons glanced around the area, looking specifically for good spots to nap because that’s where Grif would be… if he were here. Simmons saw no sign of him anywhere.

   “Grif? Grif!” He called, waiting for some sort of answer. Was this a prank?

   “This is so stupid…” Simmons muttered to himself. He stood there and waited… and he waited… and nothing. Nothing was happening. Grif wasn’t coming out to talk to him, Donut hadn’t come back, and Sarge was off making adjustments to the warthog. All that was around him was nature, like the sound of the waterfall behind him, or the green grass underneath his boots. It would almost have been serene if it weren’t for the nagging thought that Grif and Donut were watching to see what he did, and were gonna make fun of him for it later. Why did he even show up? He wanted to talk to Grif about the thing he’d heard from Donut, but it was pretty clear that he was just set up.

   “Fuck this,” Simmons got up and walked back into the base, wanting to clean to try to get his mind off of the anxious thoughts roaming through his head.

 

…

 

   Donut was so excited! Any minute now, Simmons and Grif should be discussing everything that they’d heard. He was pacing around outside of Blue base because he didn’t really want to interrupt anything, but he really wanted to dash back to his own base and congratulate them both.

   He didn’t think he could wait any longer really, so he bolted straight for his own base. When he got there, he realized there was no one standing near the waterfall, which meant that they were done talking! Donut continued on until he made it into the base, panting, and saw Simmons furiously mopping an already clean floor, muttering, “fuck him.”

   Donut stood, catching his breath, before saying to himself, “that was quick,” and then spoke up, “hey, Simmons! Where’s Grif?”

   Without turning to face him, Simmons responded with a very short, “I don’t know, where is he?”

   Donut tilted his head to one side, “what do you mean?”

   “Well, he wasn’t at the waterfall, so I assumed he was with you,” Simmons turned to face him, “by the way, that prank of yours? Not funny. Pretty big dick move from you, actually.”

   Donut’s face and heart fell, “he wasn’t there?”

   Simmons scowled, “if this is a continuation of your stupid prank, I’m not convinced.”

   “Prank? What prank? He was supposed to be there.”

   Donut didn’t seem like much of a liar, but Simmons had this nagging feeling...

   Simmons sighed, “you’re  _sure_ he was supposed to be there?”

   Donut nodded quickly, adamant as to his innocence in Grif’s absence.

   “Okay, then how do you explain why he wasn’t there?”

   “I don’t know! Church and Tucker-” before continuing, Donut quickly shut his mouth, “I mean, uhm, he told me he’d be there.”

   “What was that about Church and Tucker?”

   “Nothing! What? I didn’t say anything about Church and Tucker. I said… uhm… Zurch and Yucker. You misheard me.”

   Simmons crossed his arms over his chest, “Donut?”

   Donut gulped, “uh… yeah?”

   “You’re a really bad liar.”

 

…

 

   “You _told_ him?”

   “Yeah… it just slipped out.”

   Tucker turned to Church, “I told you he’d give it away.”

   “You really shouldn’t meddle in other people’s business, you know,” Simmons scolded, “Grif and I are friends, and that’s how it’s staying.”

   “Is that what you want though,” Donut asked, “to stay just friends?”

   “Yes, Donut, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t tell you.”

   “But we could help you with it,” Tucker said, smiling under his helmet, “bow-”

   Before Tucker could finish, Church yelled, “Tucker, if you don’t stop doing that, so help me _**God**_ , I will kill you.”

   Getting back on topic, Simmons asked, “okay, well, if you were to help me, how would you do it? Because you haven’t done a very good job so far.”

   “Well, the whole waterfall thing was our only idea,” Tucker admitted, “but that went wrong because  _somebody_ couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

   “Hey, I thought we were supposed to tell them to meet at the waterfall after we told them somebody liked them!”

   Church groaned, “no, we were going to reconvene, but before we had the chance to discuss the next phase of the plan, you ran off.”

   “I was just outside,” Donut defended himself, “you could’ve come out and talked to me.”

   “Really,” Tucker started, “because we thought you just ran straight back to Red base.”

   “I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

   Suddenly, a mysterious voice said, “interrupt what?”

   Donut jumped, hand going to his chest, “my word, you scared me, Caboose!”

   Church, Tucker, Simmons, and Caboose all looked at Donut.

   Donut looked around, “what?”

   “'My word’,” Church said, “really?”

   “Now you see what I have to deal with on a daily basis,” Simmons added.

   “Why are we all staring at Donut,” Caboose started, “Is it his birthday? I love birthdays!”

   “How,” Simmons started, looking at Church, “how did he make that connection?”

   “Who fucking knows,” Church responded, turning to look at Caboose, “no, Caboose, it’s not his birthday.”

   “Oh,” Caboose was visibly disappointed, “I was waiting for us to start singing.”

   “Anyway,” Church began again, “you didn’t want to interrupt them tal-”

   “Interrupt who talking?” Caboose asked, not recognizing the irony of the situation.

   Church breathed in, and breathed out, trying to keep himself from exploding on the other blue soldier.

   “We’re talking about how Donut didn’t want to interrupt Grif and Simmons while they were talking,” Tucker filled Caboose in while Church steadied himself.

   “Oh, okay!” Caboose nodded, then he continued, “what were they talking about?”

   “There’s no need to go into detail-” Simmons put his hands up defensively, but quickly got cut off by Donut, who said, “they were gonna talk about their feelings!”

   “Oh, okay,” Caboose nodded.

   “I don’t even know how he feels about me,” Simmons started, “I don’t even know how _I_ feel about _him_.”

   “You don’t?” Donut was looking to Simmons with wide eyes, listening intently.

   “Shit,” Simmons muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have said that…”

   Tucker butted in, “well, too late. You already said it.”

   “I’ve been kind of… questioning our relationship, I guess. He’s my friend, but recently I’ve been getting more nervous around him.”

   Church said, “Aren’t you nervous around everyone?”

   Simmons frowned, “shut up. Anyways, it’s… different, with him. I don’t know how or why.”

   Donut gasped, “oh my god, you have a crush on him.”

   “What? I do not.”

   “I think you do!” Donut chirped, singing a little out of tune.

   “Huh,” Tucker nodded, “that works out well for us then, doesn’t it?”

   “I said shut up,” Simmons repeated, “I don’t know how I feel, okay? This is all just… really weird.”

   Caboose asked, “is it a good weird?”

   Donut intervened, "does he make you happy, Simmons?"

   Simmons furrowed his brows, “I mean… I don't know, maybe? He’s a slob and incredibly lazy, but I’ve come to see him as a friend.”

   “What exactly makes you nervous about being around him,” Tucker questioned, “is it that you’re afraid of what might happen to your friendship if you tell him what you think might be happening?”

   Simmons frowned, “I didn’t come here to have a therapy session.”

   “Well, too bad,” Tucker said, “answer my question.”

   Simmons threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t know!” He clutched his helmet, “I didn’t think I was gay, I still don’t think I’m gay but I don’t know anymore!”

   “Whoa, whoa, Simmons, relax-” Tucker quickly got cut off by Simmons, “relax?! How can I relax?!”

   “Simmons,” Church said about as calmly as he could manage, “breathe.”

   Simmons was almost hyperventilating at this point, but he took a moment to slow down and waited until his breathing returned to normal before saying anything, “sorry. I just… okay, maybe I like him. _Maybe._ How would I even go about telling him? I’m not even sure if he likes me too.”

   “Have you tried asking?” Caboose tilted his head to the side, “that usually works for me.”

   “Asking? I’m not going to just ask him, that’d blow my cover immediately. Besides, I’d be way too nervous.”

   “Well… maybe one of us could ask him?” Tucker shrugged, “maybe he’ll tell one of us, then we can work it out from there.”

   Simmons bit his lip, “I still don’t know how I feel about this.”

   Donut patted him on the shoulder, “just let us do the talking! Everything will be fine.”

   “Easy for you to say,” Simmons muttered, before sighing and saying, “fine. Let me know how it goes.”

 

…

 

   Tucker and Caboose were walking around, looking for the one and only Dexter Grif. They found him sitting up against the same tree they found him under earlier.

   “Caboose, let me handle the talking, okay,” Tucker started, “the only reason you came along is because Church wanted you to come with me.”

   “Church said this was important,” Caboose noted.

   “Yeah, pretty important, man. That’s why I’ll talk.”

   “Okay.”

   Grif saw them heading his way, and waved at Tucker. Caboose waved back, and Tucker sat down beside him.

   “Hey man,” he said, “how’d you sleep?”

   Grif stretched, “I only woke up maybe a half hour ago, just wanted to look at the things around me.”

   Tucker grinned, “and by that, you mean you were too lazy to get up.”

   Grif shrugged, “do you blame me?”

   “Nope,” Tucker shifted the focus of the conversation, “so, Grif, I have a question.”

   “At least I’m actually awake this time,” Grif muttered, “what’s up?”

   Tucker leaned back casually, “how do you feel about Simmons?”

   Grif paused for a moment, seeming a bit taken aback by the sudden question, “uh, what?”

   “I was just curious. You guys spend so much time together, I was wondering if you guys were like… best friends or something.”

   “And he likes you,” Caboose started, before following up with, “but I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

   “Caboose-” Tucker started to scold him, but Caboose continued, “I mean he really-” Tucker cut him off with a sharp, “ _Caboose!_ ”

   “Right, sorry Tucker,” Caboose said, before whispering in Grif’s direction, “I’m not supposed to talk or else I might give something away.”

   Tucker was about to do damage control before Grif said, “wait, Simmons? Simmons is the one who likes me?”

   “Uh,” Tucker rubbed his neck, “may… be?”

   “That’s a yes,” Caboose nodded, and Tucker intervened with, “Caboose, seriously, cut it out.”

   Grif stared for a moment before scoffing and letting out a laugh, “Simmons? Likes _me?_ Okay, now I **know** you’re shitting me.”

   Tucker and Caboose shared a glance, and Caboose asked quietly, “what does that mean?”

   “It means he thinks we’re joking.”

   “I mean you are right," Grif switched his glance between the two Blues in front of him, "Right?”

   “Nope, we’re not shitting you, dude.”

   Grif sat there, deep in thought.

   “Grif,” Tucker waved his hands in front of his face, “you okay?”

   Grif shook his head, snapping out of whatever trance he’d been in.

   “I should _prooobably_ go talk to him,” Grif extended the probably, as if he was debating on whether he was actually going to or not.

   “Yep,” Tucker stood up and held his hand out to Grif, “let’s get going.”

   Grif sighed, taking Tucker’s hand, “where are we headed?”

   “Blue base,” Tucker pulled him up.

   “Great.”

 

…

 

   “So,” Simmons directed his attention to Tucker, “how did it go?”

   “Well, he said he should probably talk to you.”

   “When?”

   “Right now,” Caboose affirmed.

   “ _What?!_ ” Simmons sounded like he was about to hyperventilate again.

   “Yeah,” Tucker added, “he’s kinda waiting outside so you can talk.”

   “Shit shit **shit** ,” Simmons clutched his helmet again, “what am I supposed to say?”

   “I’ve told you already, silly,” Donut smiled, “just tell him how you feel. You’ll be fine!”

   Simmons slowed his own breathing down, “okay, okay, it’ll be fine, just gotta keep telling myself that.” He breathed in, and awkwardly marched out the door, trying to maintain his composure.

   “Wanna eavesdrop?” Tucker turned to everyone else, and Donut nodded excitedly.

   “Might as well,” Church chimed in.

 

…

 

   Simmons racked his brain for the right words to say as he walked out of Blue base, but when he saw Grif, his heart raced with an indescribable feeling of anxiety that couldn’t be ignored. He couldn’t make a sound. He stood for a few seconds, which felt like forever, until Grif spoke up, “cat got your tongue?”

   “I.. uh..” Simmons cleared his throat, “you wanted to talk to me?” His voice cracked, and he had to hold back a cringe.

   “Yeah,” Grif rubbed his neck, “uh… so, I heard you like me?”

   There it is. Simmons wasn’t sure what exactly to say, so he started with, “well, I mean… it’s weird.”

   “You’re telling me.”

   “Just shut up and let me talk.”

   Grif held up his hands in defense, “floor’s yours.”

   “What I mean is… I don’t really know how I feel. It used to be that you’d bug me, get on my nerves  **all** the time.”

   “Gee, thanks,” Grif cut in, but Simmons silenced him by continuing with, “but over the years, we’ve become better friends and… now when I’m around you, I’m… nervous, and I don’t know why. Donut thought it was a crush or something, but I don’t know what this is. That’s the truth.”

   “Well,” Grif started, “I… don’t really know either. We’re kind of in the same boat.”

   Simmons raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened, “what? Really? You too?”

   “Yeah. It’s weird,” Grif sighed, “to tell you the truth, I’m kinda relieved. I didn’t want to be the only confused one.”

   “Yeah,” Simmons trailed off. Silence overcame the conversation, before Grif spoke up.

   “Now what?”

   “Uh,” Simmons hesitated, “well, we’re in the same situation, maybe we can… figure things out. Y'know, together.”

   Grif took a second to think about it before nodding, “better than trying to figure things out on my own.”

   “Agreed.”

   Just then, they heard something behind them. It sounded like… weeping?

   “Donut, are you crying?” Church sounded as exasperated as usual.

   “I-I can’t help it! I’m just so h-h-happy!”

   Tucker clapped Donut on the shoulder, and Caboose asked, “does this mean they’re married now?”

 

…

 

   It’d been a couple of months since then, and only now had Grif and Simmons started holding hands in public. They still bickered and argued as much as they always did, but there was no ill intent, no venom behind the words they spoke to one another in their disagreements.

   One day, while Simmons and Grif were looking out at the scenery around them, something occurred to Simmons, “wait, Grif, did we ever tell Sarge?”

   “What, about us?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Uhh…” Grif thought on this for a moment, tapping the bottom part of his helmet, where his chin would be, before responding with, “don’t think so.”

   “Really? Shouldn’t we, like, say something to him at least?”

   “Do you want to? Because I don’t really care.”

   Simmons frowned, “we should tell him.”

   Grif shrugged, “don’t ask, don’t tell, man.”

   Simmons rolled his eyes, “I’m telling him. You coming or not?”

   “Whatever, doesn’t matter to me.”

   “If you come with me, you won’t have to stand out here and work.”

   Grif groaned, “but walking anywhere is so much effort.”

   “Suit yourself,” Simmons turned and started walking into the base, and Grif figured that he really should be there when Simmons comes out to Sarge. Moral support and all. Plus, Simmons was going to out Grif as well, assuming Simmons told Sarge everything. He followed Simmons inside.

   Grif almost bumped into Simmons in the door way. The guy was frozen, just standing there, staring ahead of him. Sarge was in the room, but had his back turned to them.

   “On second thought,” Simmons said, “let’s not.”

   When Simmons turned around to walk out, Grif grabbed his arm, “look, I know you. If you don’t do this now, you’re going to freak out even more about it later,” Grif turned Simmons to face him, “I’m going with you, okay? We’ve got this.”

   “Issat you, boys?” Sarge stood up to face them, his head turning in their direction, “why aren’t you at your post? You’re supposed to be spyin on the dirty Blues! Who knows what kind of diabolical schemes they could be hatching?”

   Simmons bit his lip, “Uh, sir, me and Grif have something to tell you.”

   “What is it?”

   “Grif and I, uh…” Simmons trailed off, and Grif patted him on the shoulder to ground him to reality, reminding him to keep going, “we’re together, sir.”

   Sarge stood staring at the duo for a moment, before saying, “and?”

   Simmons was stunned.

   “And what,” Grif started, “that’s it.”

   “That’s it? I knew that from the beginning!”

   In a moment of relief, Simmons sighed, before saying, “wait, what? The _beginning_?”

   “We’ve only been together for a couple of months, Sarge.”

   Now it was Sarge’s turn to be confused, “what in Sam Hill are you boys talkin’ about? You’ve been together fer as long as I’ve known you!”

   Simmons and Grif exchange glances, “no we haven’t, Sarge.”

   “Well, I’ll be damned.”

   Well, Sarge didn’t seem to mind much, to Simmons’ relief. They left the building, with Grif muttering, “I’m glad that’s over.”

   Along the way back, Simmons kept rubbing his neck.

   “You okay?”

   “What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

   When they got back to their station, Grif couldn’t help but feel there was a slight shift in the vibe between the two of them, but he couldn’t put his finger on what had changed.

 

…

 

   Later that night, in their shared room, Simmons was trying to sleep, but couldn’t get his mind off of something.

   “Grif?”

   Snoring.

   “Grif??”

   More snoring.

   “Grif!”

   A startled Grif bolted upright, eyes wide. He looked around the room before he saw an equally startled and slightly sheepish Simmons. Grif’s breathing slowed, “Christ, man, you nearly scared me half to death.”

   “Sorry,” Simmons said, “I can’t sleep.”

   Grif turned over, facing the wall, “that doesn’t mean I should sacrifice my beauty rest.”

   “You’re such a dick sometimes, Grif.” When Simmons didn’t get a response, he said, “Dexter, I’m trying to talk to you.”

   Shit. First names. That meant he was being serious.

   Grif sighed and turned over again, facing Simmons, “what is it, Richard?”

   Despite knowing that Simmons was being serious, Grif couldn’t resist the urge to slightly mock him.

   “Look,” Simmons looked anywhere but at him, “I’ve been trying to find a way to say this all day, since the whole Sarge thing, but I couldn’t find the right time, and-”

   “Dude,” Grif cut him off, “spit it out.”

   Simmons faced the ceiling, “I think I figured it out.”

   Grif lifted an eyebrow.

   “Figured _what_ out?”

   “How…” Simmons hesitated, “how I feel about you.”

   Grif was caught off guard, “and…?”

   Grif couldn’t help but get nervous at the hesitation in Simmons, but when he turned towards him and said, “I love you, Dexter Grif,” he couldn’t help but feel like everything was… right.

   “You woke me up for that?”

   Simmons frowned, “I’m trying to tell you something really important.”

   Grif smirked, knowing full well what he was doing, before softly saying, “I love you too, nerd.”

   He couldn’t see very well, but he could’ve sworn he saw Simmons smile at him, “good night.”

   “Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, the part with Sarge isn't that great but Sarge is hard to write man don't judge me. I did my best. Hope you enjoyed anyway!


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